


Mycroft (Un)Plugged

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Possessive Sherlock, Probably Out Of Canon - Doesn't Really Matter For This Fic, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Texting, a bit cracky, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22001047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: Mycroft spends a splendid day at work with a little secret nobody knows about. His lover is a bit on the possessive side.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 15
Kudos: 97





	1. A Full Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlytherinsDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinsDragon/gifts).



> Inspired by the famous bondage fic of my lovely friend SlytherinsDragon. Basically an excuse to write rather dirty porn.

“Your tea, sir. Is everything all right?”

Mycroft Holmes took the mug from his assistant’s hand. “Thank you, Anthea. Everything is fine.” He beamed at her, and her eyes widened, almost in shock. She was not used to seeing so many teeth from him.

“Oh. Great, sir. Your first meeting will be in twenty minutes. Lord Atherton.”

“I can’t wait!” He said it without irony, and she looked rather perplexed.

It wasn’t the first day he was in a good mood when he came to work lately. But he had always kept a low profile. No grinning. No little happy dance in his office. No whirling around his umbrella when he was walking through the corridors of power.

But today… Today was a bit… different. A little bit indeed. Mycroft chuckled and caught another worried look from his trusted PA.

He gave her a smile, he just couldn’t help it, and then he opened his first report, which he would read before meeting a highly unpleasant man, and he didn’t mind one bit.

*****

“Are you all right?”

“Splendid, Lord Atherton.”

The old man with the deliberately tousled white hair gave him a suspicious look. “You just grimaced as if you’re in pain!”

“I am not, I can assure you.” He had just sat down a bit unreasonably. It hadn’t hurt. Quite the opposite actually, but that was not the kind of information he would like to share with a Member of Parliament. Or anyone else apart from the man who was concerned, actually. “I believe we have some important matters to discuss?”

The grumpy lord gave him another inquiring look out of narrowed eyes before he nodded. “We do indeed...”

Mycroft did his best to appear to listen to him closely. Considering his massive intellect, he didn’t need to give him his full attention to memorise everything he said, but the goldfish didn’t understand this so he had to pretend he was all ears in order to avoid causing the man to make a scene nobody needed. Actually he _was_ concentrated. He was just a tiny bit distracted by another part of his body but Mycroft Holmes was able to multitask.

*****

The morning seemed to be over in the blink of an eye. More meetings, conference calls, reports coming in, a little emergency in Buckingham Palace – Mycroft couldn’t complain about not being busy enough. And he mastered all challenges with a smile, without breaking a sweat in his impeccable suit, every hair in place. The PM caught him smiling though in a rather inappropriate moment and sternly asked if he was mocking him, and Mycroft, aghast, assured him he wouldn’t dream of doing that. Of course he wouldn’t, not when the man could see him!

When he was ready for going out to grab a small lunch, Lady Smallwood, who had obviously been lurking near his office, caught him and asked if she could keep him company.

It was a bit of a cold shower of rain on a very sunny day but he didn’t have much choice than to say it would be his pleasure. Which it decidedly was not but he had to work with her. Being usually completely oblivious to other people’s, especially women’s, interest in him as a person, it had taken him embarrassingly long to figure out she wanted to get to know him a lot better. He had been shocked and tried to let her know as politely as possible that he would rather eat his right foot than share his or any other bed with her, but she had obviously seen this as a challenge and even increased her efforts. When he had mentioned this the previous day at home, someone had not been very happy about this particular piece of information, and Mycroft had done his best to make up for upsetting him – no matter how insane it was to be jealous of this old woman, or any woman, or anyone at all, basically.

And just perhaps he had been feeling so happy the whole day because of this incident. Because this special someone had insisted on him doing something that would remind him all day of whom he belonged to. As if he could forget…

But he had not seen a way out of this and so a few minutes later, he was sitting at a table in a small Italian restaurant, waiting for his _pasta primavera_ , and he tried his best to look as indifferent as possible. Which was not that easy as the chair was hard and something was poking against a certain spot inside of him whenever he shifted his weight. He might even be feeling something sloshing in him, but that was hardly possible, was it?

Elizabeth Smallwood watched him with her head tilted, her scrawny fingers around a glass of wine. Mycroft had ordered water. He did not drink during a work day. “What is the matter with you?” she asked curiously. “You seem to be in a surprisingly good mood but you also look as if you were in pain.”

“I am not. I mean, good mood, well… No pain.” God, he was stammering like an idiot.

“Then what?”

Mycroft felt it had been a very bad idea to accept her invitation. Well, of course it had been. “I am fine,” he settled for. “Did you want to discuss any professional matter with me?” He knew this question had been a mistake as well when her hand landed on his arm. He looked down on it as if it was a deadly and exceptionally ghastly spider and it actually pretty much looked like it, apart from the missing three digits…

“Not exactly, no,” purred the lady. She was wearing especially red lipstick today. On her lips and her teeth… And there was no doubt she was keen on leaving traces of it on his…

Mycroft sat back, pulling his arm back in the go. “Good. The Prime Minister did this thoroughly today already,” he chattered, desperately trying to lead their conversation to safe grounds.

He should have known it was futile. “He’s a menace. What do you think, Mycroft, should we meet up later? In my house?” A spider indeed… keen on catching him in her sticky web...

Where was the bloody food?! He needed to shut her up!

And then, to his relief, his phone signalised a text. He hastily grabbed for it. “Excuse me, please.” He swallowed when he saw a text from his lover and he immediately replied, well aware that he was watched with disappointed and suspicious eyes.

_How is your day? SH_

_Fine. And yours? MH_

_Boring cases. John gets on my nerves. Is my gift still in place? SH_

_Sorry to hear that. And yes, of course it is. MH_

A purple-coloured silicone plug with a little ‘S’ on the base...

_All my precious fluid sealed? SH_

_I can feel it sloshing inside me. MH_

Damn, possible or not – he really could.

_I will come over at seven and check it. I hope you will be at home then. SH_

_Oh, of course. I’ll make dinner. MH_

_I don’t need anything. Except for my dessert. SH_

Mycroft gasped. He couldn’t!

“This seems to be a very interesting conversation,” nagged the lady.

“Oh yes...” Mycroft put the phone into the pocket of his jacket when the waiter came with the food. “That looks tasty. Thank you.”

The man – young, slim, black hair, dark eyes and perfect teeth – smiled at him and gave him a very strange look when he said in a low voice, “I hope you will enjoy it, sir.” As if he was… interested? Mycroft blushed.

And Lady Smallwood hadn’t missed this tiny hint of a flirt. “You seem to be very sought after...”

Mycroft had no idea how to reply to this and was relieved when another text came in.

_Where are you? SH_

_Having lunch, pasta. MH_

_Alone? SH_

Damn… He couldn’t lie. Sherlock would know it…

_No. Lady Smallwood insisted on bringing me here. MH_

_Oh did she. What if she insists on jumping you? SH_

_Sherlock. There is nobody else than you for me. Not ever. MH_

_Hm. I hope that’s true. SH_

_I will prove it tonight. MH_

_You better will. Eat now and get rid of her. I don’t want to find any traces of her on you. SH_

_You won’t. I love you. MH_

_Love you too. Just don’t forget you are_ _ mine _ _. SH_

_I am all yours. Your sperm inside me feels so good. MH_

_My cock will feel even better. SH_

_Without a doubt. I cannot wait for you to fuck me and fill me up even more. MH_

Thank God, he could rely on their phones being completely safe.

_When you have finished eating, go to the bathroom and make a picture of your arse. I want to see my plug in you. SH_

Mycroft felt his trousers get very tight.

_I will. MH_

_Good. You have fifteen minutes. SH_

He would hurry to eat up. He stored the phone again and looked up – Lady Smallwood was gone, her glass empty and smeared with her lipstick as if she had bit into it out of frustration. Shrugging, he smiled and started to eat with good appetite and an erection that wouldn’t wilt.


	2. A Hot Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be unable to write such a fic without it getting strangely funny (at least for me). I hope you'll still like it!

Sherlock stormed in an a haughty whirl of curls and coat, all steely-eyed, high-cheekbone-d elegance, and as usual since they had only fairly recently discovered that they were much more compatible as lovers than they had ever been as brothers, Mycroft's heart stopped for a moment at the sight of this beauty and his mouth might be standing open in a most undignified way; possibly he was even drooling at the prospect of things to come.

Naturally, the smart detective didn’t miss this reaction. His look softened, his amazing mouth curled into a smile that was both proud and affectionate.

He shrugged off his coat and pulled Mycroft into a crushing embrace. He had put on some weight over the past two years – only muscles. Gone was the scrawny boy Mycroft had known as a child, gone was the lanky teenager and the thin, moody young man. Sherlock looked better than ever and it felt breathtakingly good to be held by him, being kissed with vigour, being allowed to indulge in his baby brother’s infatuating taste and smell.

But before Sherlock could ask about the plug, Mycroft said after sharing a long, passionate snog with him, “I’ve prepared some sandwiches.”

Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes, but his eyes were betraying him. “Always Big Brother Mother Hen, huh?”

Mycroft smiled. “Of course.” Some things never changed. Sherlock might have taken the dominant role in their newfound relationship, and Mycroft had gladly accepted this, but he was still the older brother. It was his job to take care of his younger sibling. He loved this job. It might have been a thankless one for a long time but these times were gone for good.

“Okay,” Sherlock sighed. “I’ll have one.”

“Salmon with eggs,” Mycroft lured him, and Sherlock gave him an appreciative nod.

“Good choice. And then I want to hear everything about your day with my precious essence sealed in you.”

“It was lovely.” He had cleaned himself out thoroughly before they had fucked with abandon and Sherlock had come in him, putting the custom-made toy in place so there wouldn’t be any embarrassing surprises when Sherlock would pull it out in a little while. “I could get used to it.”

Sherlock gave him a pleased smile while they were walking to the dining room, his arm around Mycroft's waist – he was still big brother in every sense after all. “I’m happy to hear that,” he rumbled. “But we’ll keep it for special occasions. I bet it wasn’t that comfortable.”

“It was. A bit too much at some points…” Quite literally...

Sherlock grinned knowingly. “Rubbed that sweet spot inside you, hm?”

“Deliciously.”

“I can’t wait to please it with my fingers.”

“And your tongue?”

Sherlock squeezed his waist. “You can bet on it. I have a very long tongue.”

“Oh you do. And your cock...”

“Not quite as long as yours,” Sherlock grumbled.

But Mycroft knew he wasn’t exactly complaining about his size. Sherlock loved to deep-throat him and sometimes Mycroft did fuck him as well. There were days when Sherlock was in a mood where he craved it. Mycroft _always_ craved being taken by baby brother’s considerable cock but enjoyed taking Sherlock from time to time so that was pretty much perfect. It all was. It had started basically out of nowhere, with a bang; in fact they had been discussing a case and then suddenly the air had been crackling and he’d had to admit he had desired Sherlock for a long time and they had ended up in bed very quickly when Sherlock had been very clear he was amenable to it. And from there it had only got more pleasant and hot.

And Mycroft, powerful British-Government-Mycroft, who would have never thought he had a submissive streak (and really, even if he had known he wouldn’t have given into it with anyone else), had found out he loved being dominated when little brother had unceremoniously put him on his back and eaten him up in a no-nonsense manner, making the point that he might be the younger brother but was not to be bereft of being in charge when it came to the really pleasant things in life.

“I love your big prick,” he assured Sherlock. “It’s so thick.” He also loved Sherlock’s amazing behind. His long, muscular legs. His small, dark nipples. His six-pack. Of course his intellect. The way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He loved Sherlock, bottom line. And amazingly enough, Sherlock loved him every bit as much.

“It is indeed. Filling you out very well, isn’t it?”

“So well,” Mycroft purred. He couldn’t wait for being on the receiving end of his brother’s massive tool. But first he would feed him. And then Sherlock would examine him.

“I hope this hag didn’t touch you,” Sherlock said sternly.

“She put her hand on my arm,” Mycroft admitted truthfully. “But I took it away at once,” he hurried to add as thunderclouds appeared on the handsome face.

“You better did! If she keeps on hitting on you, she might have an accident.”

Mycroft shivered. He loved Sherlock being all possessive and threatening in protecting what was rightfully his! “I think she got it,” he soothed him. He had met the lady after her interrupted lunch in a meeting with the Foreign Minister, and she had been cold and grumpy at first but then she had returned to a politer tone. She knew as well as he did that they had to get along with each other. But not too well! He had no doubt that Sherlock would take to drastic measures if provoked, no matter how little he had to fear. Mycroft kind of liked that…

“Hm,” made Sherlock, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t like it. I don’t like _her_!”

“I know. Me neither. But I’m sure you will like your dinner and your dessert.” He gave Sherlock a suggestive wink and his heart melted at the flashing up of Sherlock's incredible eyes. Yes. He would feed him now and then they would get naughty.

He couldn’t remember having ever been so at ease with his life. His heart was full of love, his arse was full of Sherlock's come and this night would be full of passion. Everything was pretty much perfect for the man who was secretly pulling the strings of the British nation but had been lonely all his life until his incredible little brother had given him what he no longer wanted to miss.

*****

“Oooh,” crooned Sherlock. “What do we have here?”

Mycroft was not able to answer right away, feeling as if he had been struck by lightning – Sherlock had rocked the base of the plug, sending sparks of pleasure through his canal and his entire body. “That’s you,” he brought out. Sherlock's first initial – as if there was any doubt who the intimate toy and he belonged to.

“Yes. Me. My plug. My arse. My Mycroft!” Sherlock hissed. One of his hands was flat and warm on Mycroft's goose-bump-covered cheek.

“Absolutely.”

“They should better not forget… Want me to pull it out?”

“Oh yes. Pull it out and fill me up with your devilish tongue and your fabulous fingers.”

“Yes,” Sherlock rumbled. He pulled at the plug and Mycroft groaned when it plopped out, wetness following it in the go – the mixture of Sherlock's semen and the peach-flavoured lubricant.

He gasped when he felt Sherlock's hot tongue on his quivering hole. And in it. Sherlock was having his naughty dessert for real, and his efforts of catching whatever drop might leave Mycroft's body after being captured in it for quite a while were accompanied by noises that could only be called indecent – and to Mycroft they were even more appealing than Sherlock playing the violin.

Eventually – Mycroft was close to passing out at being licked out as if there was no tomorrow – Sherlock seemed to be content to have caught every hint of his sperm and entered Mycroft's loosened entrance with two elegant fingers, thrusting and poking and teasing, making Mycroft's cock throb with hardness and his arse vibrate with need.

After a few minutes of this exquisite torture, Mycroft literally begged his brother/lover to mount him, and Sherlock generously indulged him after applying another load of lube to his eagerly waiting love tunnel.

Fluid was splattering everywhere when Sherlock fucked him doggy style, holding onto his hips, thrusting harder and deeper with every delicious minute.

Mycroft was screaming out his arousal in the rhythm of the relentless strokes, and when Sherlock finally exploded in him, he had already shot his load all over the bed and was hardly able to keep himself up anymore.

Sherlock didn’t pull out but urged him to lie down with him, still buried deep in him, his love juices dribbling out of Mycroft's hole, gluing them together as Sherlock was holding him firmly against the full length of his body.

“Thank you,” panted Mycroft when his brain slowly started to work again. “That was awesome.”

“Yes,” purred Sherlock against his ear. “Nobody will ever fuck you better.”

“Nobody else will ever fuck me.” It was true and Mycroft knew it was what Sherlock wanted to hear from him.

“Nobody,” Sherlock agreed. “You know I’ll kill everybody who dares touch you.”

Mycroft allowed himself the fleeting thought that this would be an interesting way to get rid of any kind of human nuisance. But he wanted Sherlock with him, not in prison, and probably not even his power or Detective Inspector Lestrade could forever keep him from being sentenced to this if he developed the habit of killing people. And Mycroft simply didn’t want anyone else’s hands on him. “So would I,” he said, truthfully. All those people who lusted after his beautiful brother! He had been able to let a certain dominatrix disappear after Sherlock had saved her useless life but with anyone who wasn’t on the run it wouldn’t be that easy!

Sherlock snorted. “They are not even worth my looks, let alone my fucks.”

“I love it when you say dirty things.”

Sherlock chuckled and squeezed him tighter. “And when I do them?”

“I love that even more,” Mycroft assured him. As Sherlock’s cock had softened and slid out of him in the meantime, he was able to turn around in his brother’s embrace and hold him, too.

They kissed hungrily and Mycroft's hand found a very lush arse cheek and his middle finger just needed to poke a certain wrinkled spot. Sherlock moaned into his mouth and Mycroft knew a second round was just around the corner. And certainly it would be every bit as pleasant as the first one.

This was how it should be – the possessive Holmes brothers, finally forming a horny, happy couple.

  
  



End file.
